


The Marshmallow Bits in Lucky Charms

by lefticurse



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Post-Split
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8062063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lefticurse/pseuds/lefticurse
Summary: And that was fine, Brendon decided. If Ryan wanted to cut him out of his life, after five years of friendship, even disregarding the three they spent dating, then he’ll make it easier for him. Because he’s smart enough to know when he’s not wanted, and nice enough to leave accordingly.Then the doorbell rings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> it's not too angsty i promise  
> also ryan has no idea how to be a normal human being after a breakup lol

Brendon’s still half-asleep when he feels a warm body next to him.

He snuggles closer, trying to catch a whiff of Ryan’s shampoo, trying to hug him closer because he just wants to feel all of Ryan against him.

He can almost see Ryan, giggling a little and moving around so it’s easier for Brendon to feel. He just wants to reach over and taste Ryan, the hint of toothpaste and autumn, but he’s too tired to. He can almost see Ryan, hair across his face and an easy smile on his face, almost hear the little tunes Ryan hums to himself when he’s content.

But then the warmth is suddenly gone, jerking Brendon all the way awake.

Brendon opens his eyes to see Bogart, quietly retreating from the room.

Brendon sighs, feeling the dread and bitterness set in.

In that half-second between sleep and consciousness, he almost forgot that Ryan left.

Ryan left the band, Ryan left him, Ryan never even called.

Although, Brendon figures, there aren’t that many things to say after saying, “I can’t do this, I think it might be best if I go, this is too hard, I’m not sure this is worth it.” Brendon had wanted to ask if Ryan meant the band or their relationship, but he was too scared to.

It’s okay. He’ll be just fine without Ryan. He was fine before he met him, he was fine when Brent first introduced them and Ryan was just the too-serious emo kid, and he can be fine again.

But it’s harder now that Brendon knows that Ryan hates the marshmallows in lucky charms and loves the smell of smoke and can’t lie without biting his lips and looking slightly to the left. It’s harder now that Brendon knows that Ryan isn’t as serious as everyone makes him out to be, that Ryan smells like warmth and vanilla, that Ryan hates the brightest shade of red but loves the brightest shade of yellow.

It’s hard now that Brendon knows how in _love_ he was. Is. Whatever.

It’s been months now. Brendon got back from tour, had time to settle, had time to get over Ryan (although that obviously never happened), had time to sulk and whine to Spencer and catch up with Jon.

Ryan never even called him, never even texted him a single greeting, or a single pleasantry, or anything at all.

After the last time they awkwardly met at that restaurant (the one Brendon spent the next two months frequenting on the off chance Ryan would show up again), Ryan had disappeared.

And that was fine, Brendon decided. If Ryan wanted to cut him out of his life, after five years of friendship, even disregarding the three they spent dating, then he’ll make it easier for him. Because he’s smart enough to know when he’s not wanted, and nice enough to leave accordingly.

Then the doorbell rings.

Brendon grumbles angrily at whoever is ringing the doorbell at - Brendon looks at his bedside clock - at 1 P.M., apparently.

Nevertheless, Brendon rolls out of bed and rolls to the door and rolls around the doorknob until it opens to reveal a guy with a mop of curly hair - longer now, Brendon notes -  and a weirdly formal suit jacket and an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Ryan?” Brendon asks, his voice almost catching in his throat.

And yes, the guy looks up, and it’s Ryan. Ryan with no neckerchief and hair that’s too long and too wavy. It’s Ryan, his Ryan, but it’s not _his_ Ryan, not anymore.

This is not the Ryan he knows.

“Can I come in?” He asks, voice low and smooth like usual. Brendon furrows his brow.

“Um, okay.” He answers, because he’s not sure how else to. Brendon steps back and Ryan walks in, pausing to pet Bogart, who had been trying to push past the door to get to Ryan. Ryan pauses by the couch, as if asking permission.

“You can sit.” Brendon says, but winces. It didn’t used to be like this. Ryan used to just plop on the couch, yelling at Brendon to bring him water or chips or whatever.

For fuck’s sake, Ryan used to sort his mail for him and read the bills (which Brendon thought were too boring), and this caution, this tiptoeing, is ridiculous.

Brendon says none of that.

“Do you want something to drink?” He asks instead.

“No, I’m okay.” Brendon nods but gets himself a water anyway. Thinking for a moment, he gets one for Ryan too. Ryan always gets pissy when he’s thirsty, and he hates drinking anything while traveling anywhere, so he’ll probably get thirsty soon. Brendon knows this.

He kind of hates himself for knowing.

Brendon walks back, handing one of the glasses of water to Ryan, who looks surprised.

“Thanks,” he says. He looks at Brendon, who has busied himself with taking large gulps from the glass. Ryan looks around for a second before hesitantly setting his on the table. Brendon almost laughs. He knows Ryan can’t stand not using a coaster.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Ryan finally asks.

“Yeah.” Brendon answers curtly.

“Oh. It’s one in the afternoon, you know.”

“Yeah, I do.” They’re quiet again.

“Ryan, why are you here?” Brendon asks, proud of himself for not sounding hurt or sad or like anything at all, really.

“I - I missed you.” Ryan says. Brendon scoffs before he can stop himself.

“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” He says. Ryan ducks his head.

“I’m sorry.” He says. “I just didn’t know what to say.”

“And you do now?” Brendon’s voice sounds cold, even to him.

“Well, not really.” Ryan admits. “I just couldn’t put it off any longer.”

“Put what off?”

“Seeing you. And telling you that, fuck. I fucked up.” Brendon closes his eyes.

“You fucked up?” Brendon repeats, head tilted upwards like he’s asking God why he loves toying with him.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have broken up with you. Or said everything I did. I left the band and I left everything I cared about, and I was going to call you but I just _couldn’t_ , and you never called so I thought maybe you didn’t want to hear from me.”

“Of _course_ I wanted to hear from you.” Brendon says, exasperated. “I didn’t call because _you_ were the one who left.”

“You called Jon. Jon left you too.” Ryan points out.

“But Jon’s not _you_.” Brendon says, before thinking better of it. Ryan’s quiet.

“I-I know. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, about everything.” Brendon closes his eyes briefly before opening them again.

“Yeah,” he says.

Ryan doesn’t say anything then, just sits there, twiddling his thumbs and watching the condensation from the water glass drip down to the table.

“I love you.” Ryan says suddenly, and Brendon startles.

“I,” Brendon pauses. “I guess I loved you too.” Ryan flinches, and Brendon feels a little guilty, but he stands his ground.

“Not anymore?” Ryan asks, a little hopefully. Brendon pauses again.

“I guess not.”

 

Ryan leaves after that, hugging Bogart and awkwardly waving at Brendon. He doesn’t say that he’ll be back and Brendon doesn’t expect him to be.

Except there he is, a couple days later, with a duffel bag and sad eyes.

“Hi, B.” Ryan greets when Brendon opens the door. “Do you think I could stay here?” Brendon gapes at him. He kind of wants to shake Ryan and scream, _What the actual fuck is wrong with you why do you do this to me why why why_ but he doesn’t. He just nods slowly and lets Ryan in.

“Why?” He asks, once Ryan is inside.

“I was, uh, staying with Spencer, but Spencer kind of told me, um,” Ryan brushes his hair in front of his face. “that maybe it’d be best if I would leave? And so y’know - “

“You thought it’d make sense to try to room with your ex? Even though even your _best_ _friend_ didn’t want you?” Ryan awkwardly shifts his weight on his feet.

“Yes?” Brendon stares at him, but turns away when he can feel himself smiling a little.

“Okay. You know where the guest bedroom is, right?” He says, walking toward the couch.

“Thanks.” Ryan walks toward the room to drop off his bag, then joins Brendon, who’s watching something on the T.V.

“Hi,” Ryan says.

“Hi,” Brendon replies. Ryan stares at the T.V. Brendon expects Ryan to try to make some conversation, but he doesn’t, and they just sit together.

It’s nice existing with Ryan again.

 

Brendon leaves the house before Ryan wakes up the next morning. He goes to the bakery to get some coffee and maybe a bagel for Ryan (no cream cheese, just a smear of butter) and then returns home.

Ryan jumps on him as soon as Brendon closes the door behind him.

“I missed you,” Ryan says without a greeting, holding Brendon close.

“Whoa,” Brendon replies, surprised, but doesn’t push him away. “I was only gone for, like - “

“No, I mean,” Ryan interrupts. “When I left. When _we_ left, me and Jon. I got home and I missed you so fucking much but I couldn’t call. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was saving us, our friendship, the remnants of the band, I don’t. I thought it would be easier to leave the band if I left you too, but. I don’t know. I just knew that I got home and _fuck_ , did I miss you.” Brendon is quiet for a minute. _I missed you too_ , he doesn’t say. _I still miss you and how we used to be_ , he doesn’t say.

“Then why didn’t you even try to talk to me?” Brendon asks. He tries to find the strength to push Ryan away, but he can’t find anything besides longing and hurt.

“I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me.”

“That’s a stupid reason.”

“I know.” Ryan still hasn’t let go, and Brendon isn’t sure what to do with his hands.

And then Ryan’s kissing him, and Brendon is thinking _yes, yes, yes,_ bagel forgotten by his side, until he’s thinking _no, no, Ryan can’t do this, he can’t do this, not again._ So Brendon pushes Ryan away.

“What’s wrong?” Ryan asks.

“I can’t - I’m not letting you in just so you can fuck me over again.” Brendon tells him. He backs up, so he’s no longer so close to Ryan. “I won’t let you.”

“I won’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Why not? You’ve done it before.” Brendon’s pretty sure he sees hurt flash across Ryan’s face.

“I know, and I’m so sorry. I fucked up.”

“You did.” Brendon confirms.

“But Brendon, I need you to trust me,” Ryan pleads, and there’s a familiar sense of urgency behind the words.

He remembers the same tone of voice when he begged Ryan not to leave the band, not to leave him. He remembers the way Ryan looked at him, eyes already filled with regret. He remembers the way Ryan left anyway.

“I don’t think,” Brendon says quietly. “I don’t think I know how to anymore.”

 

It’s awkward for a couple days after that, but they completely ignore that it ever happened like two well-adjusted adults in a healthy not-relationship. They laugh over nothing and talk like normal, and everything is good.

Turns out, Ryan hasn’t changed. Not really.

But then they get to talking again.

“Do you think we could fix this?” Ryan asks, and it’s quiet, and he’s looking away.

“I don’t - maybe.” Brendon mumbles. “Probably not.” He settles on. He watches Ryan’s face fall. “We could stay friends though,” Brendon says hastily. Ryan forces a smile.

“Oh,” is all Ryan says.

“I just don’t know if us being together again would be a good idea.” Brendon justifies weakly.

“Yeah,” Ryan answers, ripping his lips with his teeth and looking at something over Brendon’s left shoulder. “Maybe it wouldn’t.”

Brendon wants to touch him, hold him close and let him know that he knows that Ryan’s sorry. He knows how hard Ryan’s trying. He knows Ryan regrets everything, how fucking much Ryan has missed him. He knows that Ryan loves him.

Brendon loves him too.

But he’s afraid that all that might not be enough. 

He doesn’t say any of that, though. He just leans his head on Ryan’s shoulder, and he can feel Ryan itching to touch him more, but Ryan doesn’t.

Ryan leans his head on the top of Brendon’s head, and Brendon just closes his eyes.

 _That’s that_ , he thinks to himself. _That’s that._

 

Except it’s not, because Brendon and Ryan are in the middle of watching some stupid movie when Brendon can’t take it anymore.

He turns his head and crashes his lips into Ryan’s.

Ryan makes a weird noise in the back of his throat, but he kisses back, almost automatically.

Brendon pulls back, and he’s staring at Ryan, and Ryan is looking back at him, surprise evident on his face. Brendon gives Ryan a second to breathe before kissing him again.

“I thought - “ Ryan says, as Brendon attacks his lips. “I thought you said this wouldn’t work. I thought you didn’t know how to trust me.” He sounds hurt, and he sounds scared, and Brendon stops to look him in the eyes.

“Teach me,” he says, almost inaudibly.

Ryan only hesitates for a second.

They crash into the bedroom, lips on lips and hands on hips, and Brendon hasn’t forgotten what this is like, couldn’t forget even if he wanted to, and he _had_ wanted to, for a while.

Judging by the way Ryan is pulling him, moving his lips to the spot on Brendon’s neck Ryan _knows_ is sensitive, Ryan hasn’t forgotten either.

 _Ryan remembers too_ , he tells himself. _Ryan remembers too_.

 

When Brendon wakes up, he turns to look at the other side of the bed, expecting to see Ryan’s sleeping form.

He sees rumpled sheets.

Brendon bolts upright and tries not to panic. Maybe he just went to the bathroom. Maybe he’s just playing a fun little prank. Maybe - 

But then he hears footsteps coming towards the door, and Ryan walks in, holding a tray with two steaming mugs and a plate.

“Hi,” Ryan says, smiling at him.

“Hi,” Brendon echoes, trying to force his heart to slow down. _It’s okay_. He tells himself. _It’s okay, Ryan didn’t leave him. Ryan wouldn’t do that._

“Here,” Ryan thrusts the tray into Brendon’s lap. “I made you eggs. I mean, it’s not much, but we both know I’m not much of a cook, and it was more about the gesture anyway, and, I mean. I made coffee, I know how to do that. That mug’s for me. You probably already knew that.” Ryan’s rambling, and he’s obviously a little nervous, but Brendon doesn’t care, because Ryan is still here.

Brendon beams at him and takes a bite of the eggs.

“Hey, these are pretty good.” Brendon comments. Ryan shrugs.

“They’re eggs,” he says nonchalantly, but Brendon can see that he’s pleased.

“What about you?” Brendon asks. Ryan takes his mug from the tray and sips from it.

“I had some cereal. I hope you don’t mind. I’ve been up for a while.” Brendon nods, and continues eating.

Everything is good. Ryan hasn’t left. Brendon finishes the eggs quickly and puts the tray on the bedside table.

“C’mere,” he says to Ryan, and Ryan does.

They kiss, and Ryan nuzzles against Brendon’s neck, and Brendon can feel him mouthing words into the skin.

Ryan’s done it enough in the past that Brendon has memorized the way Ryan’s lips form these words, how it feels against him.

 _I love you_.

Brendon doesn’t say it back, but he tightens his grip on Ryan’s body, and by the way Brendon can feel Ryan’s lips form a smile, he thinks that he doesn’t have to.

 

“You’re like, the marshmallow bits of my lucky charms, Ry!” Brendon exclaims one day. Ryan wrinkles his nose in confusion and distaste.

“I hate those.” He tells Brendon, and Brendon grins.

“I know. But _I_ love them. And who cares about your opinion anyway, huh, Ross?” Ryan shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

“I like us.” Ryan says, seemingly out of nowhere. “I like us, together. You and me.” Brendon grins back and looks at Ryan’s face.

This time, Ryan is looking straight into Brendon’s eyes, and his lips are free of teeth.

Brendon smiles.


End file.
